


Weather the Weather

by zhem1x5



Series: untitled excessive drabbling [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I'm still very not British, M/M, but that's what gryffindors do, draco doesn't mind, harry does, it's damn cold in this city/state/region of the country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/zhem1x5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving into a new place is stressful, things get forgotten in the rush to be done, overlooked because there's plenty of time. Sometimes Harry's an idiot, but Draco's used to that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weather the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> To be fair to the weather, I wrote this last February -when it was also balls all cold.

There were some things that magic just couldn't equal, Draco thought, leaning closer to Harry beneath the warm duvet. Candlelight flickered and fluttered, casting shadows that Draco still remembered frightening him as a child. They didn't bother him now, though he did cuddle against Harry.

 

Harry's fingers slid through his hair, making Draco shiver for a new reason in the chilly room. "I'm sorry we didn't go to the Manor instead," he whispered, turning and drawing Draco up against his chest.

 

"It's fine," Draco insisted for the fifth time, huffing a little at having to repeat himself when it really was completely alright with him that they weren't in his thoroughly magical bedroom.

 

"You're just being nice about it," Harry huffed right back, tightening his arm around Draco's back and reaching over to grab his glasses off the nightstand.

 

"Have you met me? I'm never just nice about anything," Draco sputtered, sitting up to stare at Harry though he was quick to wrap the duvet around him again. The room was truly frigid.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, tucking the blankets around his shoulders. "You warned me, you should be saying 'I told you so' instead of acting as though this doesn't bother you."

 

"Honestly," Draco sighed, shaking his head and staring at the wall behind the flame. "How were you supposed to know the storm of the century would hit London while you were renovating your magically stripped house?" He looked around the nearly bare room. They had finished painting it that morning and Harry had been so overeager and excited about not sleeping on the lounge at Ron and Hermione's that he hadn't cared that they had only managed to set up his bed and a small table.

 

"Your mum warned me too, that I should wait until summer to do such extensive work in this house. I've just never had a house to think about like that," Harry continued, rubbing his hand up and down Draco's arm as though _he_ were the one wallowing.

 

"Potter," Draco finally snapped, shrugging off Harry's caressing hand. "If you don't shut up about it right now, I will go back to the Manor and tell Mother _and Father_ what a prat you are. You will sleep alone. And you will not get to warm me up. Seriously, I am unbothered by the general lack of heat and light."

 

Harry grinned, ever the indomitable Gryffindor. Eventually. "Okay," he agreed. "You're warm enough right now, aren't you?"

 

"I will hex you," Draco muttered, amused despite himself.


End file.
